


i’d do anything for you (nail my heart to the ceiling, put my fist through a wall)

by fortunatedaughter



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 12:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8286341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortunatedaughter/pseuds/fortunatedaughter
Summary: prompt from ginny-lawson: ginny plays golf with the new catcher and a certain someone gets jealous





	

“Hey.” Al calls out, jerking his chin at Ginny. “Keep on eye the new guy.”

“Skip?” Ginny raises an eyebrow.

The coach snorts, levelling her with a look. “He’s gonna need somebody, Baker. Figure the two of you know a thing or two about bein’ outta your depth.”

Al disappears into his office and Ginny casts a glance over her shoulder at Duarte.

The first thing Ginny really notices about him is the eyes, how they’re just this shade of mystical and the deep warm brown depths seem to hold a million and won secrets. (Fucking catchers and their fucking eyes. They’re all out to get her. She’s sure of it.) The second thing she notices is the ever present smirk on his lips. As if he knows a secret that the rest of them don’t and the price to figure it out is going to be steep — worth it, but steep. (This was getting to be a problem, in all honesty. She was better than this.)

Ginny bites down hard on her gum at the thought of breaking her rule again. “Hey.” She calls out, eyebrows raised. “You play golf?”

(Neither of them notice Mike Lawson watching them with a stormy expression. Maybe that’s for the best.)

* * *

Mike calls her for a third time that afternoon on the green and Ginny stabs the ignore button with just a little bit too much force than was probably necessary. (Why was it when he ignored her calls it was fine, but it wasn’t the same with her?)

Glancing up, she catches sight of Duarte’s amused face, leaning gently on a golf club. Ginny flinches. “Sorry - he’s just. Protective.”

“You mean your other catcher?” Livan drawls, that same ever present smirk making it’s appearance. Ginny’s beginning to realize that he’s not mocking or anything, that’s just how his face seemingly is. (She’s yet to decide if this is a good or bad thing for her.)

He seems to catch the look on her face and snort leaves his lips. “I am — not an idiot, Ginny. I can see you are attached.”

Her lips purse and she glances out over the green. “His poster was on my wall.”

Livan nods slowly. “Hero worship. I had something similar.”

Ginny’s head snaps to his gaze and finds a deep sense of… understanding… lurking in his eyes. “Yeah.” Her teeth tug on her bottom lip. “Is that going to be a problem?”

A curious raise of an eyebrow. “Why would it be a problem?”

Ginny laughs, tipping her gaze to the clear blue sky. “Oh, you’re one of _those_ people.”

Livan shrugs, unashamed.

“Mike Lawson only has two seasons left. If he’s _lucky_ and if his luck stays the same.”

“I know that.” Her voice takes on a defensive quality and she watches as he takes a shot, the tiny gold ball sailing and curving through

“I just want to play baseball, Ginny.” He mutters after a moment. “That is why I defected.” He turns, gazing at her and that depth in his eyes is back. “You understand something about that, don’t you?”

Her teeth tug on her bottom lip. “Yeah. Yeah I do.” She inhales deeply and shifts, grabbing a bucket of golf balls. “Come on, hermano. Next hole winner buys the beers.”

* * *

An hour later, Ginny and Livan sit at one out of the outdoor tables offered by the golf club, beers on the table. Ginny tips her face up to the sky, enjoying the afternoon sun as it beats down on her face, warming her skin. A soft smile blooms on her face and for the first time in a long time — the superstar pitcher for the Padres actually looks at peace.

“How do you do it?” Livan questions, frowning softly as he gazes at Ginny. His fingertips fiddle with the label on his beer bottle.

“Do what?”

“Be comfortable with your agent sleeping with your catcher?”

Ginny nearly falls out of her chair. “W-What?” And just like that, tenuous grip she has on reality, on this insane world of hers that seemingly gets even more insane with each passing day — she _loses_ it.

Mike and Amelia? Amelia and Mike?

Livan seems to sense the emotions swirling through her and frowns heavily, realisation dawning on his face. He’s like an open book and inwardly, Ginny relishes in the action. She’s so used to being around people who cover up their emotions, keep their cards close to their chest that being able to read someone — it sends a pang through her. “You did not know. I am sorry -”

“No.” Ginny shakes her head, licking her lips as she tries to get back into control of her life. “Um. How? How do _you_ know?”

His lips purse and he slowly pulls at a fry, chewing it before he answers her. “I saw them _embracing_ when I arrived one morning.”

 **Embracing**. Which, knowing the two of them, means they probably had their tongues shoved down the other’s throat. Why does that image horrify her so much? Why does she hate it, hate the thought of Mike kissing Amelia? They’re both adults. And sure, if she this whole thing goes south it’s on her, but — why does she feel those black and ugly feelings curling at the pit of her stomach?

(She knows what they are, but acknowledging them means unpacking the box of feelings she’s labeled Mike Lawson and stuffed down to the very bit of her inner self; something she’s not at all ready to even remotely consider.)

“Ginny -”

“No, no, don’t. It’s not your fault.” She tips her beer bottle to her mouth, Ginny takes a hearty swig. “It’s theirs.”

* * *

“Golf was our thing.” Mike says by way of greeting when he swings past her corner of the clubhouse one afternoon. They’re game free for a week and she plans to spend it either in the bathtub, eating scrambled eggs loaded with hot sauce or sleeping. (And pushing the thoughts of Mike Lawson and Amelia Slater from her head.)

“Oh we have _things_ now, do we?” Ginny scoffed. “Yeah, I don’t think you were thinking of our _things_ when you **fucking** my agent.”

“How - how do you know about that?”

She glances coldly back at him. “Worst kept secret in Petco Park.”

“Ginny —”

“No, okay. No.” Maybe if she heard this from one of them — maybe it’d be different. Maybe she wouldn’t be so mad, maybe she wouldn’t feel so utterly fucking betrayed, as if her heart was breaking all over again like it did with Trevor. (Why did she always get hurt by those she trusted most?) “I trusted you. I trusted her.” Ginny paused. “How did you find out about the poster on my wall?”

Mike’s silence is all the answer she needs.

“That’s what I thought.” Ginny slowly nods. “So you do your thing Lawson, and I’ll do mine. Better for everyone like that, don’t you think?”

He’s still silent.

“Duarte comes in to start on Monday. I think it’s best if I start pitching with him. Get used to it for when you retire.” It’s the first time she’s ever said outloud that he’s retiring — up until that point it’d been an unsaid thing, something neither of them really acknowledged. They didn’t want too, back then. Now everything was shit side up.

“Yeah.” Mike says after a moment, mask carefully shuttering over his face. (Ginny hates it. He never used to have a mask up with her, but now he does.) “Maybe it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> thROW ME IN THE TRASH i am owned by these two.


End file.
